


Sunlight...

by DeanCas_shapped



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Soft Castiel (Supernatural), Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, Soft Dean Winchester, Soft mornings in bed, can also be, ep 15x18 coda, happy soft and fluffy only time, iam posting for the first time, that's the rule, the one rule, yep that too, yes iam ignoring the unholy two aka the last two eps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanCas_shapped/pseuds/DeanCas_shapped
Summary: In a moment now, he’ll be awake enough to utter something cheesy, full of sentimentality and completely is the truth, in a way and tone and voice that brings the most enchanting shade of warmth in a flush that reaches up to the very tips of his husband’s ears and let the freckles peppering his cheeks, peeking through light morning stubble and all the way down to a pink with sleep collarbone, about how there's only one true reason behind why he shines, is that Dean is the sun and that the only there to reflect his love, his soul beauty and light. His sunlight.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 36





	Sunlight...

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey! hello to my first, and probably last, attempt to post a fic ever!  
> so English isn't my first language, I'm dyslexic and this unbeta-ed so..... be gentle with me pls, I've never published a piece of work that I wrote in not my first language before so yeah... *ducks out*

“Wake up!”

Featherlight… there’re fingertips traveling up and then down the light curve of the small of his back where the soft covers that must've been sliding to rest there all while he slept in a dreamless, nightmare-free, peaceful haze in his husband’s arms last night. He’s not aware of the outside-of-the-peaceful-haze world yet, but he can feel the fingertips with touches smoother than feathers. 

they’re rough, those tips, but whenever they’re on this slow sweet journey all along the way down the once lonely plains of his back, leisurely carving as if he’s made of clay, knowing that he never was formed or contained to resemble that kind of substance, but carrying-on the act of shaping him as the man he is today, the man he finally allowed himself to be, as they did from that very start. That first tough. That first fall to the soul he was made to forget he had it in the very essence all along.

“Sunshine..”

A murmur, barely a whisper. And the only reason he caught it is for those soft lips who released it in the shell of his ear. Those lips who were only there for a second and a beat before they continued what Dean declared not so long ago but maybe a millennia ago or a decade, to be his most sacred duty in the mornings; kisses... showing his skin with tender kisses. Maybe a hundred kisses were engraved on his shoulders and back before he caught that first whisper, maybe a hundred more would be up in the air, deep into his unconscious brain, sealed onto his skin before he awake enough to say or do anything. But neither one of them would mind, he never did, and Dean! Dean told him, once in a sleepless night, that he found in that routine a never-ending source of dopamine and that he thinks if he keeps on kissing him awake in the morning, he’ll never need morning coffee for all eternity or ever again. but he would continue to have one anyway to not make him feel left alone in the mornings. And Cas distinctly remember in his still-unconscious state that he let it slide then with a raised eyebrow, a barely contended amusement and a soft laugh he planted in there, deep into Dean’s chest with a kiss of his own. In another night his husband whispered into his ears with a voice open with a prayer, that since he can’t hear his prayers now, he’d make him feel them. Every morning and every other night he'd draw them on his skin. 

A lazy smile grows with warmth on his face now and he buries this one in the soft cotton of the pillow, not ready to break the prayer yet. 

“My sunshine.”

It’s easy to forget sometimes, how things used to be. How were they like... How life itself, by divine design... and that thought alone would drag a laugh from him and a half… was out to play with them, take them apart and then destroy the bond between them. that it was, is and will always be more profound than the measures of life itself, more overpowering than the sun, and that what he came recently to believe; their love could easily revive a thousand universes, stars and suns. That it had done that once before, and will do it again.

“Wake up, sunshine!” 

In a moment now, he’ll be awake enough to utter something cheesy, full of sentimentality and completely is the truth, in a way and tone and voice that brings the most enchanting shade of warmth in a flush that reaches up to the very tips of his husband’s ears and let the freckles peppering his cheeks, peeking through light morning stubble and all the way down to a pink with sleep collarbone, about how there's only one true reason behind why he shines, is that Dean is the sun and that the only there to reflect his love, his soul beauty and light. His sunlight. 


End file.
